


you drain me dry

by wreckmebro



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, References to Abuse, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckmebro/pseuds/wreckmebro
Summary: Sylvain wants to replace a memory.





	you drain me dry

**Author's Note:**

> hi... uh... this wasn't going to end up a fic but this thought had been swirling in my head for awhile so *nervous laughter* 
> 
> this is a public apology to sylvain i love you i promise

Sylvain is the one who suggests it.  
  
He and Felix had established their relationship -- much to Felix's hesitation and embarrassment. Since then, they've done a few things with each other in the sexual sense, as needy, growing young men tend to do. Grabbing each other helplessly after a long day of Byleth's teaching, desperate grinding in the training grounds -- as well as a fair share of more intimate moments in either Sylvain's or Felix's bedroom. Quietly, of course, knowing the beast sleeps lightly just a dorm away.  
  
They've yet to get completely carried away adventurously; that is until today. Felix shoots him a look mixed with confusion and humiliation. He quickly turns away from Sylvain after a quick "why would you want me to do that?" and goes back to polishing the blade of his sword.  
  
Sylvain wouldn't be the one to admit that he has no experience in the more kinky field of sexual exploration. Girls rarely hang on to him long enough for him to get them in the bedroom, let alone start introducing fisting or anything into their relationship. Not that he's ever had what you could call a "stable relationship" until now. He isn't particularly used to it yet, and even asking Felix about these things makes the back of his neck burn.  
  
"I'll be fine, I swear. I just want to try it out." Sylvain folds his arms behind his head. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about straight-up hurting me while we're going at it."  
  
Felix sighs and glares at him. "I'm not a sadist, Sylvain."  
  
The redhead hangs his head a bit. He wasn't going to push Felix into anything he wasn't comfortable with, obviously -- he's not that type of guy. Assuming Felix was into the kind of sadistic thing he mentioned may have been a bad guess on his part. Silently kicking himself, he waves a hand in the air dismissively.  
  
"Alright, alright. If you don't want to, I get it," Then, his voice dripping with guilt tripping, "I guess we'll just stick to boring vanilla stuff forever, then."  
  
"You're sure you want this? I'd be more than happy to choke you right now if you'd like." Felix snarls, irritated. "Fine, I'll do it." The swordsman turns away again to hide his face; Sylvain can see a faint dusting of pink filling his cheeks.  
  
Sylvain smiles triumphantly. "You won't regret this."  


* * *

  
  
He had said Felix wouldn't regret it. Sylvain never said anything about himself.  
  
As Felix coaxes him down onto the bed, Sylvain's chest thrums wildly. It feels like excitement, somewhat -- but there's something else to it. His heart beats like crazy when he gets to be with Felix like this, but the intensity is almost at a level too high. The hairs on his arms are standing at attention, making every one of Felix's touches feel like tiny pricks into his skin.  
  
Wordlessly, they fall into it. Felix leans down to kiss him for a brief moment, and Sylvain lets himself get swept away in Felix's mouth. It's heavenly, far too soft for what he imagined tonight to be like. Every nerve in his body is on fire, and he just wants Felix to grab him, hard and violent already. One of his hands wraps around Felix's own, guiding it to his neck. They part, and Felix looks down at him, eyes filled with a sort of nervousness Sylvain has never seen before.  
  
"It's okay, I swear." Sylvain tucks his own hand away. He shouldn't be allowed to have any free will in this scenario. He smiles and tilts his head, allowing easier access to his Adam's apple. "Choke me, daddy."  
  
"I'm leaving."  
  
Sylvain laughs as Felix says that, not moving a muscle. His legs stay planted firmly, straddling his waist. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Come on, though. Let's do this."  
  
Apparently riling him up with a stupid joke was what got Felix's blood pumping. His hand grasps Sylvain's neck, and slowly, he squeezes. It's not painful, and there's not much force to it. It feels as though Felix is holding back for some reason.  
  
"More." He breathes, and the fact that he can makes him think Felix isn't being aggressive enough.  
  
That calloused hand then presses deeper, thumb finding its way to the outline of Sylvain's throat. The gentle beat of his pulse under Felix's palm makes him hyperaware that, yep, he's definitely being choked right now. When he pushes that digit into the spot, Sylvain goes numb for a second. He can feel his legs shaking, his arms shaking, his shoulders shaking. Looking apprehensive or scared is the last thing he wants right now -- giving any sort of sign that he doesn't want this is going to make Felix stop, and he doesn't want it to stop.  
  
Felix doesn't seem to notice, because a second hand reaches up, thumbs overlapping. The pressure intensifies as Felix's thumbs dig right into his windpipe, and Sylvain takes a shuddering gasp of breath, drawing his legs up. The realness of the pain is starting to bubble to the surface, but Sylvain still doesn't want him to let go. Those hands need to squeeze harder, squeeze the life out of him. He knows Felix has always thought about this -- imagined strangling him to the brink of passing out.  
  
He continues the assault. Sylvain is loving it, wriggling helplessly under Felix's weight. He groans and coughs weakly as he tries to catch a breath of anything. Felix presses down, then up, practically crushing his windpipe. Sylvain is definitely loving it.  
  
Until he lets his eyes flutter completely shut.  
  
It's almost as if he's entered an entirely different realm of reality when he can't see Felix above him. When he tries to pry his eyes open, he can't; like they're being glued shut by some mysterious unseen force. Something is creeping to the surface of Sylvain's mind, and he tries desperately to push it back down.  
  
_This isn't that, it's not that, just let me enjoy this, please--_  
  
He's swept back in time, just ten years old. His brother has him thrust against a wall, fist balled up in the delicate fabric of his dress shirt. Sylvain's tiny, immature voice is babbling pleas, but it doesn't seem like Miklan is listening. He's so much bigger than him -- so much stronger. Sylvain can't escape his hold as Miklan digs his fingernails into the soft skin of his little brother's neck. Sylvain kicks, struggles, tries to scream. As far as he knows, nobody is around but the two of them. Mother and father aren't anywhere nearby, and Miklan has him at his mercy. He's grinning maliciously at him, eyes filled with hostile intent.  
  
"You pretentious little shit," Miklan spits, "You get everything you want just handed to you. You think you deserve that? You think you're any better than me, just because of your stupid Crest?"  
  
Sylvain can't respond. There are tears in his eyes beginning to stream down his reddened cheeks. There's already a bruise starting to form on his throat. It hurts, so much. What did he do to deserve such harsh punishment? He continues to struggle in his grip as Miklan uses his other hand to yank at his hair, wrenching his head back. He looks directly into Sylvain's watery eyes. The younger coughs once before the hand on his throat tightens further. Sylvain's head is getting foggy -- he wishes Miklan would've chosen anything else to do to him today. Punch him, kick him, anything. His throat burns.  
  
"You should've never been born."  
  
"Miklan... please... stop..."  
  
The words come out in Sylvain's present voice. It's shaky, raw, and barely audible. Felix freezes in place, hands loosening their grip immediately.  
  
Sylvain's eyes open reluctantly. When he sees Felix above him, a weight on his chest is lifted up and away. He's sputtering pathetically in order to catch a breath. He's almost scared to sit up as he gags, coughing into his fist. Suddenly, the weight of Felix's hands on his neck disappears completely. When he looks up, Felix looks positively mortified. Sylvain has never seen him with an expression quite like that.  
  
Sylvain takes another shuddering breath. "S-Sorry," He apologizes, voice small, "I... I don't know what happened."  
  
Felix is digging his fingers into the bedsheets beside him. "I knew this was a bad idea."  
  
Felix had known their whole childhood about how horribly Sylvain was treated by his brother. On multiple occasions he had tried to save Sylvain from getting hit, only for Sylvain to turn him away and tell him he was going to be okay. It was an obvious lie -- one used to paint himself as someone brave, someone worthy of protecting and helping the weak -- even though he, himself, was powerless in those moments.  
  
Sylvain feels the faintness of water in his eyes, but he quickly blinks it away. He feels guilty, but he's so shaken, physically trembling, that he isn't quite sure what to say. There's a familiar sting in his windpipe as he brings a hand up to gingerly touch his neck.  
  
"I guess I had a bad experience with this, before," Sylvain breathes out a weak laugh, "I forgot. I didn't think I'd ever think about it again."  
  
Felix looks exasperated and guilty all at once. He shuffles closer to Sylvain and draws him into an embrace. Sylvain blinks, never expecting his partner to initiate any manner of display of affection. Despite his surprise, he wraps his arms around him and melts into the comfort.  
  
"Sorry," Felix mumbles into his shoulder, "For making you relive that."  
  
Discontent stews in Sylvain's stomach for a minute as Felix's warmth begins to drown out his thoughts. "Sorry for making you do it."  
  
Sylvain buries his face in the crook of Felix's neck. The regret still eats at him, burying him in a sickening feeling. Felix isn't mad, which is rare for him in general. He wanted so badly to enjoy this -- to turn something he'd locked in the back of his mind in a trauma vault into something blissful, something intimate between him and Felix. It seemed like he had a long way to bridge that gap, after all.  



End file.
